It is true, I am living in a hotel, I can pick and choose from what is on the Swedish table, I can freely make mess in my room which comes back in order by itself... but still, I brought, in rush, just two pairs of panties on the trip, so I wash them by hand every evening and pray that they will dry till dawn.
When they get dirty, I wash, dry and iron even the hotel paper towels that I use.
From interesting geo-grammar, we know that in Estonian language, there is no male, female or middle genre. Everything is HE, or, something, somebody which becomes more clear later in a sentence. Just when you want to ask: "Who do you talk about?" you understand. It is the same with future tense – does not exist.
(no sex, no future – Estonians would make a joke but I would not dare to speak like that here, these letters are NOT for amusement, they're scientific).
From geo-population science we know exactly that a half of Talin is colonized, soiled, occupied with Russians. We remember very well how cheeky, free, fluffy Russian girls dress as well as the small circle at the station by the market:
1. Groggy bumpkin that swaying on the bench, drunk a day and a half
2. Older, more serious tippler – cripple
3. Younger woman, vividly drunk – yells, insults, blasphemes and makes scenes around
That crew can not be domestic, Estonian, it is original Russian.
When we flip through fashion catalogs from that area, Geo-fashion catalogs, we can see that:
Market blooms with housewives' aprons - famous "Rekla's",
Psychedelic, blossomy ornamental, which my wife would easily charge off as "banally floral". But she did not saw plastic Kyrgyzstany shirt, black, sprinkled with tiny bloody rose bouquets, tufts, rose-bushes.
Prolific grandma's patterns. I should have bought it.
Geo-architecture tells us that wooden houses are common here. Planks, flakes, woodcarvings here and there... it's cozy, good feeling, wandering around those wooden, painted houses and fences.
You enter a yard – last floor is being renovated.
Through the window, somebody is throwing - and now they're falling – tiny cinema chairs. With moving sets, in pairs, upholstered in red fake leather.
In a muddy pathway, shortcut to the street, deep shoe traces, male high heels.
Geo-typology teach us that Estonians are inclined to a slow, absurd humor with delay. Sad humor which relies on surrealistic details of things and characters, which make you laugh with long breaks and unfulfilled expectations of a point.
Examples are in Estonian animated movies, take a look:
From Geography of regional beauties we get to know Estonian women as blonds or dark haired, with large, sea-and-pigeon-like blue eyes that look at you with sincere naivety.
Round faces, straight bangs down to eyes, or auntie-like long orange hairs but duck-like sculptured nose – I stared at them between songs at a concert of an anemic rock band, when lights were pointed to the audience.
I scanned interesting and alone girls, only for scientific inspection sake. But then, in the darkness of the next song, I did NOT sail toward them, crashing against embraced, frozen couples which nothing in the world could separate.
From geo-effectology of local alcoholic beverages we will take an example:
Small night street, edge of the sidewalk. We found there a transparent plastic glass with wine. Half full, under the street light, on the edge of the sidewalk, set perfectly to be kicked and spilled.
From pure scientific kindness but, at the same time, from frightened petty soul, we just jump over it, imagining wine drinker urinating nearby, by the bush or in the shadow of a building.
From geo-audio archive, we will rewind to listen again, a howl on the street, around the corner.
Man-beast, maybe Russian, throwing oneself on another man, in slow motion, tearing into peaces enemy’s feeder jacket, breaking his hood and the golden chain around his neck.
So... I can not praise enough my primary school geography education because: at geo section and additional classes, I already heard all that. This trip only confirmed theoretical knowledge that I got long time ago. Almost, you can say- traveling is throwing dime and silly waste of time. All possible information, even impressions, somebody already had and recorded them, not to mention chronological and typological classifications. World is not endlessly diverse, even its changes are cyclic, so – predictable. Everything is already discovered and there is written thought about everything which you can not dispute. What you should do is sit, advisable in Turkish seat
And read and read carefully.
That's the way it is, travelers...
If you still have doubts, than – go away, travel yourself, hitchhike hardheadedly, forge train tickets or prolong your business trips. Sleep at unknown, good peoples' – friends of your friends, secretly take a look at their private things, fell in love with their charming girls because, at least, on first sight – all foreign seams sweeter.
But you will see how your hart will go bumping before you are supposed to come back home.
And in your head will tumble and boil the dirty underwear from your backpack.
Together with local coins that will jingle when they bump into the inner bone of your skull, only if they fall out from a pocket of your pants.
And the moment when the head goes into spin cycle they will fall out.